Misery
by TateThePowerpuffFan
Summary: Brick is a critically-acclaimed author who gets involved in a terrible auto accident. He is "rescued" by his self-proclaimed biggest-fan, Bubbles Utonium. Based on the story by Stephen King.
1. Final Chapter

**Disclaimer by Butch: The author does not own the Powerpuff Girls or _Misery _(or Stephen King and his powerful mind). This story is merely a totally awesome imagining based on said content. Enjoy and share your thoughts! Butchcrest out!... Please try and ignore that.**

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**Chapter 1: Final Chapter**

**19 miles outside the town of Townsville, Colorado; 75 miles away from Denver**

**_*Clickclackclackclickclockclickclack!*_**

**Brick's POV**

**_Just a few more clickers and clackers, and I'll finally be done with this godforsaken series!_ **That was the only thing I could think of as I sat there in my toasty hotel quarters, typing up the last page of the final chapter of the final book in my long-lasting series of novels, the _Marriott_ series, which followed the life of a nineteenth century prairie-woman, Marriott Sweet. You might have actually heard of it at one point or another. My problem with it however, is that the series greatly exceeded my expectations as to how popular the books would become, and transformed into a life mission to maintain my status, rather than a simple project. After the first two stories, I realized that it would have to end, eventually, for the sake of being an aspiring free-thinker. _Marriott_ had landed me in a mental bear-trap.

I finally finished the page, and I detached it from my trusty, typewriting partner-in-crime, and held the paper to my face, taking a final inhale of the aroma that was fresh ink and tree sheeting. At last I was free from the shackles of continuity, and I thought that to myself as I poured and sipped a glass of the hotel's finest champagne, followed by a freshly-rolled cigarette (I only ever smoke after I finish writing a story, as a celebratory tradition). I packed up the little luggage that was on me and headed out to the tiny lobby with Keith, the bell boy. I approached the payphone and called my agent in New York.

"Robin, I've finally done it! I just completed the final chapter of _Marriott's Child_! I believe it's time to move on with my next project! You scanned the final copy that I sent you?"

"Yes, Mr. Jojo. I have to congratulate you on this literary conquest of yours. However, how do you think the general public will respond to the killing of such an iconic character? I don't doubt many things, but the response for Marriott Sweet's death is something that I believe might be worth thinking over. It's a rather morbid end to such a lighthearted display."

"Trust me, Robin. It's perfect. The readers will eat this one up! I'll see you in a few days."

"Whatever you say, Brick Jojo. You are the master of your domain," and with that, she hung up. I tipped my buddy, Ernie the room guy.

"See ya' when the new story ideas come to mind, Brick!" Ernie waved goodbye. This hotel was my getaway suite where I go for the serenity, seclusion, and ambiance.

"Won't be long, my friend." I waved back as I walked out to my 1965 Camaro with Keith. He unloaded the briefcase and duffel bag next to my trunk, shook my hand, smiled, and trotted back inside, for it was snowy, and he was rather chilly.

Having finished off the bottle of bubbly in my room, one would be led to believe that there would be quite an impairment in my judgment, however, there wasn't anyone around to drive me to the airport. I would have to test myself to see whether or not I would have to go sober up in the lobby (can't run the car heater and lose precious gas at the same time), or hit the road. Scraping snow off of my hood, packing it into a ball, I aimed towards a lone tree that stood about forty feet from where I was, landing a bulls-eye.

"Still got it," I groggily congratulated myself as I unlocked the driver side door, plopped inside, and ignited the engine. I pulled out of the hotel parking area, and down the forest-laden road.


	2. An Accident

**Chapter 2: An Accident**

Flakes settled on my windshield as I pushed on down the snow-caked asphalt. It accumulated at an alarming rate, for it was not even close to being this plentiful and dense the last time I was out just days earlier. I didn't allow it to impede my journey back into town.

After some quiet time that had been preserved for thinking, the idea of jamming filled my mind. I was bright enough to bring along some of my favorite cassette tapes. The snow which sprinkled down like glitter made me crave some blues, so I popped in a tape by an artist who not only rocked the world of blues, but the rock industry as well; the incredibly talented Stevie Ray Vaughan. "Texas Flood" immediately began playing, which reminded me of one of my favorite bars in Austin, and how Blossom (my wife whom I love so very much, and our young daughter, Bethany, whom I also love, overwhelmingly) and I were stranded in there during a downpour, about fourteen years ago.

That night came clearer to me than the finest drop of vodka. I had invited her over to one of the venues on Sixth Street. At the time, she didn't see me as much beyond a former enemy, so she was understandably skeptical about it at first, but I feel that by some miracle, she decided to give me a chance. We actually enjoyed ourselves, with the band that played some popular blues, the sour liquor, and the company of each other. However, it didn't extend to the magnitude that I believed it would, and for most of the night I sat there, feeling unfulfilled.

About five minutes before I was thinking about leaving, a thunderous rumble rattled the entire venue harder than a barrel of agitated rattlesnakes, and the rain immediately followed. Originally, I was frustrated that I wouldn't be able to get back to my house, but suddenly, I felt that the rain was a sign. I realized that God wanted me to walk out of this joint with Blossom's hand in mine. The Lord had bought me a drink, **_and_** an opportunity! Suddenly, an intense rush of pleasure and excitement nearly made me collapse from my barstool.

Blossom sat next to me, gazing into the inebriating solution that had gathered at the bottom of her glass. I turned to face her, and I uttered the three little words that changed my life.

"I'm sorry, Blossom."

She looked at me in surprise and confusion, almost with a relieved expression. "Excuse me?"

"I said... I'm sorry, for everything in the past. It was a natural feeling and natural actions for a five year-old boy, and every day since I've developed a conscience, my mind has been kicking me for the things I'd done." I stared into her eyes with glossy sorrow, which was truly more sincere than any sincerity I'd exerted in the past.

At first, she stared at me as though she didn't know what to say. She blinked, and then shed a single tear, which glided down her cheek and dispersed on her crystalline smile. Out of the blue, she wrapped her arms around my being and squeezed me in a breath-ridding hug. "It's all okay," she assured me.

That was the last thing that went through my head before my car careened off of the roadside, and everything suddenly went dark.

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**Finally, I was able to find time to update, today! I've been rather busy, with the end of the school year approaching and whatnot! All of my fans and readers should definitely expect tons more updates over the summer! Stay tuned! Please tell me what you think of the story so far in the reviews, and maybe even share some ideas to make this an even bigger _Misery_ spinoff.**

**PS- Today (May 14) was my 17th birthday, and updating this story is something that I consider a gift to you guys who read my stories. Take care!**


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